The Unfortunate Death of Cosmic Life
by Charlie Hunnams babymomma
Summary: Rose Is a lethal mercenary, working for an all female, for lack of a better word, spy agency. She is young but high in the food chain of professional killers. She is completely dedicated to her job and helping innocent people, but what if her and her team screwed up and the latest job isn't finished? On top of that the last thing she wanted was to fall in love. So deeply in love.
1. Chapter 1

***IMPORTANT! Hello! I should not be starting a new story but I can't get this out of my head. I I thought it would be fun if I dedicate every chapter to My favorite reviewer(s). So review and the next chapter could be dedicated to you! Also another surprise in the bottom AN! :)

Chapter one

Rose POV

Jeffery Watkins is the man of my hour tonight.

A hard man to miss in a crowd even if you weren't looking.

Large and handsomely boisterous, with a laugh like an engine. Red in the face, a seemingly permeant glistening of sweat. A face worthy of the Gods is what he would have you believe. A voice to match, and a large robust, not because he has a compulsion, but to show the peasants what they must go without, the poor, starved fools. With me on his arm, blonde and blue eyed, and 'secretly' well paid to appease anything of my master, Jeffery Watkins is not walking on water, but floating above the soft current as he waves prettily to his subjects, all thirsty for his gaze.

In his blood shot stare they see their own greed being met with a flick of a fat wrist, bejeweled in gold.

He says what they want to hear, and the thought of tomorrow's satisfactions is dusted with a sharp glance of a heavy pixie glare and a fantasy is all of a sudden completely attainable.

Jeffery Watkins sees their heady acceptance reflected in their bleached smiles.

Inherently rich people are so stupid.

Tonight, in this glamorous ballroom filled with only the most elite, Jeffery Watkins is hunting big game.

"I'm telling you John, invest with me and you will never have another fear with whether your money is secure or not." He uses his hands too much. Flings them from left to right, left to right, left to right...

Although, I can't argue with his statement. The hunter never let's his pray know he is in for the kill until it's too late.

John would have nothing to fear.

He'd be dead way before he would normally start to panic.

Same for the four other high society party goers before him.

"I've been in the real estate business nearly thirty-five years and never once lost a single dollar. Not once, Johnny." He pats the the young, smiling fool on the shoulder in the usual guy manner.

Johnny...nice touch Jeffery. Nice indeed.

Once again, I couldn't argue with the man. He never once lost a single dollar.

4.2 billion Dollars sure, but never just a single one.

His aim is clever, his buck shot deadly. But than again it's not hard to be so clever when your target is so young and so, so close.

Johnny bounces lightly in his fresh loafers, eating up every syllable, as I just watch and stay silent like a good little hooker.

Part of me wants to warn him away, show him the error in his uneducated ways... But a larger, more dog-eat-dog part of me can't help but laugh at the 18 year old, self assured asshat.

It's not like it will go too far anyway, not with an even better hunter on the horizon, so I just enjoy my private chuckle and continue stroking my dates fat arm. Enticing him.

Even though I know Only money can truly seduce Jeffery Watkins.

"I have no doubt, Mr. Watkins, that you will do well with my inheritance and make me an even richer man," John gives me an up and down look, fucker, what kind of lady does he think I am, "and I look toward to discussing this with you at a later date." He eyes me again. His pupils dilate, the blue in his eyes twinkling. Hunger for my exposed skin, of which there is plenty, has made the little boy bold.

My main man Jeff mistakes Jonny's looks towards me as unease.

"Of course son, wouldn't want to over fry this little ones brain." He laughs joyfully and trails a meaty hand down the rough sequins of my dress and jiggles the flesh of my ass roughly, his tongue sticking out of his thin lips and again laughs richly. It's the kind of laugh that you can practically touch.

I swallow down the war cries of my deeply rooted feminism and giggle along with them, I don't dare look at anyone else around us in the extravagant ballroom and instead playfully slap his chest for extra measure.

I feel his breasts, larger than mine, tap each other softly and his round belly ripple with the impact. Like a water drop into a other wise calm pond.

Jeffery Watkins will be one that I will truly enjoy.

Johnny walks away, a last glance my way, until not even a few seconds later he sees an unescorted slip of a woman, sipping her Champagne and looking around awkwardly, and abruptly changes his course and attention towards her.

Please, lord, let her have some semblance of...and nope she's giggling and twirling her red hair at his sly antics four seconds in.

This is why I'm not religious.

I turn back towards my date.

"Baby, are we almost done here?" I trail a perfectly manicured hand up the black lapels of his tux and stop before I touch skin.

It just looks too moist.

He eyes me hungrily. His bloated face trying and failing for sexy.

"Yeah, Sweet cheeks, I think we can depart now. I got what I came for." He grins, a gapped tooth smile of triumph.

I smile back, playing my part.

"Good," I moan, " I've been dying to go up to our suite and show you what I have under my dress." At the mention, I feel my surprise for him irritate my thighs. Not the easiest thing to lug around between you legs and still walk right, But it was the only place where Jeffy boy wouldn't notice.

He smiles.

That's right you monster. Eat up my words like you do everything else.

"Well, with the prices I'm paying, it better be spectacular, Tiffany." He warns me, squeezing my ass uncomfortably.

"Only one way to find out." I purr.

On the inside I'm fuming and cursing his mother.

I don't ever plan on having children but if I did I would die before I'd let them become such a monster.

I tuck my Black clutch under my arm and take his offered arm, my sequined gown pooling and dragging behind me, as he leads us out of the ballroom and away from the disgusted stares of the ruthlessly elite.

They know what I am, so pretty on the bastards arm.

Well...kind of.

What they don't know is that their money God is a very bad man.

More than just an embezzling, sweet talker. More than just a con man.

His rap sheet is as full as my bra, but nowhere near as cute.

Money laundering, Assault, stalking, murder, the list goes on and on.

That being said, that's not why I'm posing on his arm tonight.

No, I'm here because of his newest hobby.

Sex slavery.

This whole gala, with the nearest and dearest of fat bank accounts, was held to fund his new business partners.

There are plans to be made and people to be paid off, mainly law enforcement in the area of his deviant dwells; of which there are six.

Well...were six. I made sure to line up my ducks nice and neat.

Information first, which was easily attained, with a flick of my wrist and a roofie in his whiskey and the key to his home and work offices.

Now the rescue of those kidnapped and sold into the sex trade should be happening as we walk up a grand staircase to our luxury suite. As well as the capture of two very important men.

Only one way to find out if my girls are doing their jobs. I pretend to adjust my large diamond earring, but instead flip on my earpiece, connecting me to my team.

"Are you still dirty, Acantha?" My second in command, Lissa asks in Code. She's asking me if all is going well with Jeffery. Acantha is my code name. In Greek it means sharp or Thorned.

"I am going to make you a very happy man, Mr. Watkins." I giggle out my code phase, ready to know what's going down.

He smirks at me and slaps my ass. Oh yes. I will enjoy him.

"The sun has set on America's Dream." Lissa tells me referring to the girls in L.A. being rescued.

"Alice has left wonderland, but she didn't go quietly." Our own home of New York is clear but by the back up code, 'she didn't go quietly', a fuss was made.

"I'm sorry Acantha, kurt is dead, but Nirvana will always live on." Shit. If everyone made it out, The code would just be Nirvana will always live on. Washington is clear, but not with out a cost.

"Small town girl has made it big in Hollywood." Lissa continues, sounding tired all of a sudden. Tennessee is good.

"Edison shines brightly in a glowing halo." Ohio is cleared.

I pretend to listen to whatever vomit inducing thing he says and giggle and twirl my long blonde hair as we reach the elevator.

Just one more.

"The Genie has yet to be released." Shit.

I try not worry.

It's the biggest location, filled with over two thousand girls, of course it would take a little Longer.

The elevator doors open and we step inside.

Thank god.

There is another couple, the definition of step ford, so fatty can't start anything with me in here.

I really don't want to touch him more than necessary

But at the same time I know I shouldn't complain. My girls were dealt out the truly hard part right now. The rescue and capture.

Usually another girl in my team, usually Mia, would be entertaining our scumbag while I lead the troops into the war zone, but our big boy Jeff is a slippery, slimy mother fucker.

Three organizations have tried to off him so far and failed. There was no way I would trust this particular part of the mission to anyone else besides myself.

Which epically pissed off Mia, but all well. Her ego about her capability be damned, I wasn't going to take any chances.

Doesn't change the fact that I hate not being with my girls, in the warehouse in Pennsylvania, rubbing out the Genie.

The doors open to 75th floor, Right to the top, and Watkins drags me out and down a long corridor to our room.

Come on, girls, get the genie out of the bottle.

Through my ear piece I can hear Lissa typing away, keeping tabs of everything and everyone.

She has complete override on our gadgets, such as motion detectors, bombs, alarms, etc. If they fail us she can repair them with her self made software. For example; You need eyes in another room? She's hook you up, and within seconds she'll have control of every camera in the joint.

The girl is a fucking genius.

But most importantly, She is our operator. She stays at headquarters and connects us to each other. If you fail or succeed in your mission she is the first to know and warn.

"Here we are, baby." Watkins stops at room 285.

As He opens the door with the room card I hear a loud series of chimes through my ear piece.

I know what that sound means.

"The genie has been rubbed the right way, you are clear to paint the canvas, Acantha." I hear a smile in her voice.

I smile as well.

"What's that pretty smile for, Tiffany?" Watkins ask as he sits down heavily onto the edge of the bed, toeing his shoes off.

I smile wider.

"You have been a bad boy, Mr. Watkins." I purr as I start to lift my gown up very slowly, sensually swaying my wide hips.

He smirks and starts rubbing his crotch through his trousers. Disgusting.

"And what are you going to do about it, you little slut?" He growls out.

An evil gleam captures my eyes and he monetarily pauses but shakes off his new sense of unease.

His pleasure is more important than his sense of safety.

Idiot.

My dress is now at the middle of my thighs.

I lightly trail a hand down my exposed cleavage, lower and lower until I hit the skin of my thigh.

I trail upwards again.

"I'm going to do this, you disgusting son of a Dick." I quickly grab the handle of my Pistol, equipped with a silencer, swiftly unholster it between my thighs, point and shoot him right between his scared, widen eyes.

Too late for fear.

His head jerks back as the bullet tears through his dome and blood splatters on the cream colored wall behind him, until he collapses on the bed, dead.

I knew I would enjoy that.

****IMPORTANT

Every chapter will be dedicated to my favorite reviewer(s) so please review and tell me what you think. Also if you accurately tell me why I used the code i did when naming off the states and why they are connected I will use your name for an important character. The first to get all six completely right, wins. YOU MUST BE LOGGED IN OR IT DOESNT COUNT. I have to be able to PM you. Good luck! :)


	2. Chapter 2

Hello! Thank you to those who reviewed! If you didn't read in my last AN, my fave will get a chapter dedication, because I'm so thankful for the feed back.

This chapter is dedicated to...HARMONY COLLINS.

You were the very first person to review and I really appreciate it! :)

I own nothing. Please review and the next chapter could go out to you.

Warning: OOC

Rose POV

I look at the blooded wall. "Picasso has nothing on me, Ghost, send in the demolition crew." I say to Lissa, Ghost being lissa's code name. Girl is as pale as can be and you will never know if she is in your system or not. Complete tech goddess.

"Copy that, Acantha. The boss has been demoted and the Spirit is Hustling."

Meaning the cameras are taken care of and my girls are coming.

This is the part I hate.

Not even a second later the door is busted open, almost off the hinges as Alberta Petrov and Sonya Karp, aka Hustler and Spirit, respectfully stride in, covered in head to toe black. Both women are considered our senior agents, having been on the job 14 years and are built like tanks at 6'2 each.

They used to be professional weight lifters and competed against each other in strong women competitions, before they found their calling in mercenary work.

...and fell in love. Aww.

I scream loudly and hand Alberta my gun and tear off the hostler at my thigh and hand that to her as well. I pull out one of the hotel chairs and sit down.

Nice and cushy.

Sonya slaps some tape around my mouth and produces some rope from her black backpack and swiftly ties me up, the rope burning my skin.

"Good job, Acantha." Alberta says through her mask. All that can be seen is her brown eyes.

Her build is large and muscled bound but her voice is like a little twinkle. It's completely mismatched but absolutely adorable.

Or if you asked Sonya, orgasm inducing.

I nod once, in thanks. I'm not a woman that has trouble accepting compliments.

Sonya makes work of causing havoc around the room, breaking things randomly.

I look back to Alberta and nod again, giving her the go ahead.

First she messes up my hair and rips my dress down the middle exposing my breasts; sequins going all over the place.

"Damn, Acantha... Nice tits." Sonya catcalls, her voice matching her body much more.

I laugh as well as I can with tape around my mouth.

I look back to Alberta but immediately close my eyes.

This part is the one that truly sucks ass.

"On three, babe." She twinkles out.

"One...t-" She bashes a meaty fist into the side of cheek.

Dick.

There was a slight delay to the pain, almost like my skin can't believe it was hit, but like always it passes quickly and the stinging, throbbing burn spreads through the left side of my head, like a forest fire.

"Sorry, babe. Had to make it really believable." I faintly hear her say. Although, I can't be too sure over the ringing in my ears.

I hang my head, my energy being drained.

I don't see them, but I know at this point they are stealing from Watkins luggage, making it seem like a homicide/robbery.

A small chime goes off on their watches and they are gone with a quiet goodbye.

The whole thing took two minutes. I wasn't counting the time, I couldn't possible after that punch. But that was all the plan could afford. My girls are good.

Now I just wallow in my pain and wait.

Through my ear piece I can hear Lissa rehashing the plan to me, in case that hit effected me a little too much.

...it kind of did.

"Alright, Acantha, The boss has his job back," The Cameras are working again, "and employee of the month goes to The dancing Fox." Mia is on her way to 'stumble' upon my predicament.

"And that's all she wrote, Acantha, see you on the flip side." The ear piece goes silent.

About ten seconds later I hear a high pitched scream from the door way.

I play my part and start to struggle.

"Oh my god, Ms. Are you ok?" Mia, aka The Dancing Fox, screams loudly, looking to gather attention. I can sense her walking closer to me, but don't raise my head too much or open my eyes.

It hurts too much.

Now if this was a real situation and I was actually in danger I would overcome the pain and fight past it, but it's not, so I don't.

Hurry up foxy.

I feel as she takes the earpiece from me and starts screaming for help.

Everything is going completely as planned.

Which should have tipped me off that it wouldn't last, but...whatever.

A minute later people started showing up and inquiring what happened.

Multiple screams are unleashed a few second in, probably after seeing Watkins.

Ugh. I want to get out of here before he starts to stink.

That and I have captives to handle.

I pretended to be absolutely helpless in every way possible, a quivering, crying mess.

Mia pulls the tape off my face and I let the water works start full blast.

"Please someone call for help! They shot him! They shot him!" I scream out.

It was only then that I looked at the mob of people.

All staring at Watkins, in horror.

"Who did this to you?" Mia cries, pretending to fumble with the ropes.

"I don't know, I didn't recognize them!" I cry out. It's not hard to start the water works.

I mean, I did just kill a man. I'm not such a monster that that doesn't effect me.

Yet.

A few minutes later I'm still tied up but the police are finally here. Thank god, I have an itch in my nose.

"Police! Everybody please evacuate the room and wait in the hall where your statements will be taken." A booming voice yells out.

"Please, help me!" I scream as the lovely on lookers are escorted out by a string of police officers.

The owner of the booming voice walks over to me and Mia, who is in turn escorted out, and holsters his gun.

She looks back to me, with a hint of satisfaction in her clear blue eyes.

I feel ya, sister.

I look back to the officer. He's handsome man, probably In his mid thirties, 6'0, with graying black hair and hard brown eyes. Damn he has a nice build to him. Wide shoulders and waist but you can tell it's all muscle.

Now this is my kind of man.

I look to his left hand.

Damn.

"It's alright ma'am. I'm Deputy Tyler. You're safe now." He crotches down and produces a blade from his belt and cuts off my restraints efficiently.

More cops come in and walk straight to Watkins and inspect his body.

"Mickie! Get a blanket fast, she's completely exposed." Deputy Tyler calls out, as he tries to not stare, and a younger officers rushes out of the room.

God, I hate their blankets. They're so scratchy.

I do what any helpless woman would do at the mention of her own unwilling nudity, and cry a little harder.

"Everything will be ok, ma'am." Tyler gets the last rope cut and I immediately grab the edges of my ripped dress and try to cover myself.

"Is he ok?" I hiccup as I spare a glance towards my latest work.

Ha! Better not be.

Tyler looks as well.

"I'm sorry ma'am, but no. You can't survive something like that." He answers me.

Wow...usually they lie to you or try and avoid your question...

Mickie comes back in with the ugly, itchy grey blanket and wraps it around my shoulders.

"Come on ma'am, we are going to get you to an ambulance." He wraps a large arm around me and helps me stand.

The moment I stand the pain rushes back into my face tenfold.

I clutch my face in pain and cry out. Once again not something I would do In a real situation.

But I gotta be dramatic for the nice officers. Don't want them to think lil ole me would be capable of doing anything so horrific.

I clutch the blanket to me as best I can, as Deputy Tyler escorts me to the elevator.

The ride Down is him explaining what's going to happen.

"Alright ma'am. I'm going to take you to the ambulance and you will be driven to the hospital, when you feel well enough I will personally question you and if need be we'll do a psych evaluation. Do you understand what I just told you?" He asks somewhat softly, but still in a cop voice. You know the voice. Firm and unyielding.

It's kinda hot.

Stupid ring on his finger.

I just nod my head. It's all I can do.

Just like he said, I was escorted to an ambulance and they checked my injures. The ride to the hospital was quite, the paramedic and I trying to at all costs avoid eye contact. Kinda like being in an elevator.

Hmm...I wonder if that's what it like for guys in the urinal...

Once at the hospital I'm immediately wheeled into a private room.

I had to fight like hell for them to not take a blood sample or anything of the sort. That would seriously put a kink in things if they found some old files on the real me.

Oh no, Rose needs to stay hidden until I can leave this town and go back to New York. So far Pennsylvania has been a drag.

Finally, the good Doctor Gives up and just takes my word for it that the only injury I sustained was a punch to the face and a ripped Dolce and Cabana.

About a minute after Dr. What-ever-his-name-was leaves, Deputy Tyler enters with another officer, a short balding man.

Nothing really stands out about him. He just looks...plain. Utterly plain.

"Ma'am, this is Officer Mathews, we will be taking your statement, do you feel alright to answer some questions?" He asks, cop tone in full effect.

I nod slightly. His partner brings out a pen and small note pad.

"Alright can you please state your name?"

"Tiffany Michaels."

"What was your relationship with Mr. Watkins?" He eyes me. Knowing the answer already.

Or the answer I want him to think.

"We went on a few dates, three I think. We were still getting to know each other."

His eyes wrinkle in confusion.

No way in hell I was going to admit to being a 'hooker'. If it matters so much to him than he can find out in his own. It's all sit up, anyways. I just don't want to say it. I save people, damn it.

"Alright. Can you please explain to us a timeline of what happened today from the time you first saw Mr. Watkins."

I nod and rub my cheek.

Gotta get the sympathy.

"Jeff picked me up at about Seven-"

"Did he himself drive or was there a driver?" Tyler interrupts me.

"There was a driver. I don't remember his name. We drove straight to the gala, and were there for about three hours. He was talking about business deals the whole time, I didn't really pay attention. Then we went up to the room. We were only there for a minute or two before two large men busted open the door."

"Where we you and Mr. Watkins placed in the room when they made their way in?" Mathews asks.

"Um...Jeff was sitting on the bed taking his shoes off and I was standing in front of him." I pause and take a deep breath. Fake but necessary.

"They ran in so fast. One grabbed me...I tried to fight him, but he was just so strong. The other pulled out-" I cry harder, "he pulled out a gun and shot Jeff in-in the head."

"I understand this is difficult, Ms. Michaels, but we need you to continue." Deputy Tyler hands me some tissues.

"The one holding me punched me. He was so strong...he tied me to the chair and I can't be sure...I was pretty out of it...but I think they were looking for something. I heard a lot of crashing and one of them said something like 'where is it?' A few times." I sniffle.

"Can you describe the attackers?" Tyler asks.

"Umm...they were wearing black masks, all I saw of their faces was really dark eyes and a little bit of tan skin. They were both big...like over six feet and really muscular...I'm sorry that's it."

"That's alright ma'am, we've got enough for now, is there anyone you can call to pick you up, take care of you?" Mathews ask.

Ew. I take care of myself just fine, thank you very much.

"Umm...yea, my mom, I'll call her..."

I pause.

"Oh no, I left my purse in the suite." I don't really care, nothing of importance in it anyway.

"That's alright, you can use the hospitals phone to call your mother." Mathews says, already walking out of the door.

Tyler comes up closer to the bed and pats my hand.

"Everything is going to be alright. We will catch who did this to you and your...boyfriend."

I just smile sadly.

So far so good.

I call my 'mom' and say my lines. Basically tonight was a nightmare and to bring me extra clothes.

"Oh Tiffany, my sweet girl, are you alright?" My,'mother', cries as she enters my room about fifteen minutes later. The officers are gone, but you can never be too careful.

Tatiana Ivashkov, Aka Queenie and my God mother. She hugs me tightly, her Brown hair, fake, scratching my nose. I'm sure my fake blonde hair does the same.

Her and my actual mother, Janine, are the ones that started this whole organization 15 years ago.

Back then, it was maybe ten women saving the day, in small ways most of the time.

Now we have over two thousand kick ass female agents on retainer. Most are ex military, from many a number of countries. But some used to be bored housewives. Mia, for example. Women from all walks of life that decided they wanted justice.

2,000 and counting, mind you.

"I'm ok, mom, I just really want it go home!" I cry, playing along.

Ten minutes later we are safe in her old, rented Toyota, on our way to the second to last leg of this mission.

When not on the job we would never be seen in the likes of such a car, but blending in is very important.

"Where's the info?" I ask, turning on the over head light.

"Glove box." Tati replies, smirking.

"The girls did real well, Rosie. You are going to be so proud." She looks almost like she's in Nirvana.

I open the glove and take out the large Manila envelope.

"Not that I wouldn't be proud of my girls anyway, but why do you say?" I ask tearing through the documents.

"Not only did they find Mario and Tony, to pin Watkins murder on, but...they, Sydney in particular, caught-"

Holy shit.

"Sergey Ivanov." I finish, a gust of air leaving me.

Tati looks towards me smugly.

"He is already be transported to our home base in New York, accompanied by our favorite pair of She-Thor's, Hustler and Spirit. While Mario and Tony are waiting for us at the warehouse." My godmother practically squeals.

I smile widely. My deepest, darkest dream coming true. Finally.

I have been searching for this Son of a Bitch for eight years.

Since I went into this business at the age of sixteen.

Forced by my own need of revenge is more like it, but I digress.

"We finally got him, Rosie." Tati whispers.

I finally have, in my power, the man that murdered my mother.

Please review and tell me what you honestly think. My fave gets a shoutout. Also there is still time to decipher the six State codes in chapter one. And finally do not fear, Dimitri will make his entrance soon. Just be patient. :)


	3. Chapter 3

Hello! Only three people reviewed so this chapter is dedicated to all of you! You know who your are :) thank you so much for reviewing it means so much to me. I own nothing. :,(

Rose POV

Oh god. I think I'm going to cry.

I shove the papers back into the envelope swiftly and place my hormones on lock down.

I can't look at that name anymore.

No. I need to focus on the task at hand...and then...then I will allow myself whatever it is I need to feel.

We don't speak. There aren't any words at the moment. Only an ache...that we both need filled.

Filled with the blood of a very bad man, that took my world from me.

Soon.

About fifteen minutes later, we pull up to a small abandoned warehouse, that once upon a time manufactured baby clothes, in the middle of nowhere.

Complete privacy.

"You ready, sweetie?" Tati asks, smirking evilly.

No better way to take your mind off something, than to make a wrong, right with justice.

...well maybe sex, but then you need to find the right guy who can get the job done...and god knows they don't grow on trees.

I reach behind me and pull out two small duffle bags, handing one to Queenie.

Inside I find one of my favorite guns. A 5mm Browning. Tiny thing, decorated in roses with sharp thorns growing on ivy.

Most people don't like to decorate their guns. Something about it being too vain, or just pointless.

I say those people don't know what they are missing, with their boring ass guns.

"I'm ready." I finally answer.

I look over to my godmother and nod, smiling slightly.

She reaches into her bag and brings out a gun as well. Another Browning coated in a sleek, dark purple. My godmother shares my taste in bravado.

"Here, you're going to need this." She reaches back in and brings a Baggie and hands it to me.

I open it and see inside the things Sonya and Alberta must have stole from Watkins.

A gold watch, passport, about five grand in cash and some cuff links, with his initials engraved in them.

Things that can easily be identified as his. Well, besides the cash, but it doesn't hurt.

I check to make sure my gun is loaded.

Clicking the mag back In place I turn to Alberta.

"Let's do this, bitch." I smirk.

I step out of the car, a gust of wind hitting me.

"You couldn't being me a jacket?" I ask annoyed. That shit is just rude. It's cold as hell out here.

She brought me a black tank top, black skinny jeans and black ridding boots that travel to just bellow my knee.

Hot outfit, but a Jacket would have been nice, damn.

Tati rolls her eyes. "Shut up. You're lucky I brought you anything. I could have let you waltz in there with you tits out in that dress."

I swing open an emergency exit and flip her off, not looking back.

She chuckles lowly.

Bitch.

It doesn't take long to find my captives.

...well you can't really miss two large men tied to chairs in the middle of an empty warehouse.

"Finally, you too are here!" Mia groans. Sydney looks up from her magazine and smiles.

"Did Queenie tell you the news, Acantha?" Sydney, aka The Architect, grins, her glasses falling on her nose.

Mia and Sydney are sisters and so similar looking you would thinks they are twins. Blonde, blue eyed and almost doll like. Beautiful girls.

Syd used to major in alchemy at Harvard, something her parents forced her into, before she found out her sister joined our group. Once she realized something like this was even possible, she wanted in immediately.

And how am I to say no to such lovely girls? They've been with us for about three years and have become a vital part of what we do.

I walk over to Syd and give her a hug.

"Yes, she did, thank you." I tell her.

She smirks.

"I did it for the raise."

I raise an eyebrow, something I just recently learned to do and am very proud of.

"Uh uh., don't give me that look. I expect to be raking in the cash, just to let you know." She goes back to her magazine, satisfied.

Architecture Digest. Her real dream.

I looks over to our captives, who seem to be less than pleased to see me.

"Hello boys." I purr, stepping closer to them.

They start to struggle, their angry yells smothered by their gags.

Ball gags, like a BD/SM couple would us.

I have a wired sense of humor.

One of them even has a picture of tiny dick on it.

Too fucking funny.

"Alright boys. I'm going to un-gag one of you. If you try anything, like spit on me," I bring my gun to their attention, "I will not hesitate to shoot you in the dick. Do you understand?"

They both calm down and I can see the acceptance in their eyes.

Good boys.

I walk over to, whom I'm assuming is Mario, by the sight of his bald head and unhook the gag.

"Mario?" I ask, just to be sure.

He nods, his eyes angry.

"Alright Mario. Just answer a few questions for me and this will all be finished quickly, refuse to do as I say like a good little boy...I will be forced to..." I rub the edge of my gun against his sweaty forehead and trail it down his cheek slowly, "get creative." I finish.

He jerks away from my gun.

He sneers, but nods.

"Who is your boss?"

"Jeffery Watkins." He answers, his voice thick with fear and anger.

"...alright technically that is not a lie because he was one of your bosses, but that's not what I asked and you know it."

I press the barrel of my gun in his left knee.

"Alright alright! I'll tell you! Don't shoot! Please!" He screams out, Tony moaning beside him.

I take the gun away.

"Good."

He relaxes.

Poor, stupid boy.

"There are five bosses. They each have their own areas of expertise and teams of...workers-"

"Workers?" I raise an eyebrow.

It seriously intimates people. I love it.

"More like...abducters, sex slavers, pieces of shit." I growl out.

He rolls his eyes.

"Call it what you will."

"Call it what I will? Bad thing to say to the woman, your target victim, with the gun."

I point the gun at his knee again and fire before he can start begging.

My hand vibrates from the power of the very small recoil. It's a good feeling when you get used to it.

He screams loudly, his pain echoing through the empty space as the bullet rips through his knee car and blood splatters.

Ah. Results.

I shove the gun under his chin.

"Continue." I growl out. I'm so done with these dicks.

Crying, he continues.

"Ok! Ok! Th-the bosses are Watkins. He supply's locations and most of the money." He screams out. "Then another is named Victor Dashkov. He handles the scouting and kidnapping. We were apart of his team! But we...also handled the actual business deals when...dealing out the girls. Then Ralf Sarcozy and Jesse Zeklos. They do a little bit of everything..." He pauses.

"Go on...you said there were five! Who is the fifth?" I press against his chin with more pressure.

"I don't know who the fifth person is! They are kinda like... A silent partner." He yells, scared.

"Don't fucking lie to me you piece of shit!"

I can sense my girls coming closer. Tony's eyes go wide.

"I'm not lying! The only person he would ever speak to was Watkins! There were rumors going around that him and Watkins had a deal on the side and had a private sex ring somewhere else, a top level trafficking deal in a different location, that anyone else knew about. And only they were raking in the profits for it. Rumor had it, this place is making ten times the money as all the other locations combined! Somewhere no one, not even the other bosses knew about! If you are going to find out who the fifth boss is, it's going to be from Watkins. Please don't shoot! Just talk to Watkins!" He is practically sobbing now.

Oh no.

I turn to my girls.

Their faces mirror my thoughts.

Fucking shit!

I arch my head upwards and close my eyes and giggle.

Crazy. I'm going crazy.

One. Two. Three.

I already fucking waked the one man we actually needed. Well ain't that a bitch.

Four. Five. Six.

"What do you want us to do, Acantha?" Mia asks.

Seven. Eight. Nine.

"Acantha?" Sydney this time.

Ten.

I open my eyes. Dirty widows is The first thing I see.

Why do windows always accumulate so much dust?

I straighten my head and look to my girls.

"Finish the job." I deadpan.

I turn to Tony and Mario.

He must have caught the blood thirsty look in my fake blue eyes.

"Please you said we could go if I told you everything." He cries as Tony starts to struggle again.

I laugh humorlessly.

"No...Mario, no," I whisper, shacking me head, " I said, answer my questions and this will all be over quickly."

I point my gun at his head, right between the eyes, my signature kill shot, as Tati does the same to Tonys chest.

"Please! Please! Have mercy!" He cries out. Tony along with him as best he can with his gag still in place. The dick twinkling in the moon light.

"Tell me, Mario," My voice is deadly calm, but I feel anything but, "did you and Tony here...sample any of the girls? Just curious."

His cries die in his throat and his face pales. He looks sick.

"You're over, Mario."

Tati and I pull the trigger simultaneously, blood splattering on my face from the close proximity.

I drop my gun to my side, tired and finished.

"Alright girls." I say softly, staring at the bodies of two very bad men, very dead. "We put Watkins's shit in their pockets, drop them somewhere they, will no doubt, be found." I take a deep breath, the smell of blood strong. "Tomorrow I will be called with the wonderful news of my captures and the murderers of my fat boyfriend have been found dead, and then...we go home."

I turn on my heel and walk towards the exit.

Mia and Sydney will handle the bodies.

"Then we start the fuck over." I growl, my gun burning in my hand.

Please review!


	4. Chapter 4

Shout out to VAGYPSY. You are the only person who reviewed for chapter three so thank you.

I'm going to try and not let the lack of feed back deter me because I think this is going to be my best story yet and I have a lot of fun writing it. That being said it's kinda hard to still be excited. I hope the entrance of Dimitri gets the ball rolling.

Rose POV

The dank smell of sweat and smoke hits my face like a tidal wave as I enter one of my favorite bars, St. Vlad's, and escape the chilling New York night.

The girls and I have been back in NY for a about an hour, and I should be at head quarters dealing with Sergey, who is no doubt probably the fifth boss.

Hopefully.

Probably. Can't be hundred percent sure until I talk to the bastard, but it's looking that way.

...but getting drunk just seems so much easier.

I can't deal with all of that. Him. Not yet. I will tomorrow, but tonight...tonight is mine.

I stride over to the bar, dodging the disarray of dancing, drunk bodies, the thump of my stilettos is masked by the hard beat of Tears Don't Fall by A Bullet for my Valentine, but for some reason I still feel as if I can hear them. Click, click, Click, click.

I plop down on my go to stool at the end of the bar, in sight of every point of entry and wait to be served, still listening to the dead echo of my steps in the beat of the song.

Despite always being packed after five, the joint is surprisingly always very clean.

"Be still my beating heart!" A deep, British accent bellows out over the music. "If it isn't the memorizing Rose, bleed anyone lately?" He jokes; Rose and thorns and all that jazz.

If only you knew, buddy.

"Vlad," I purr, "Are you volunteering?"

Vladimir Bradwell is a very attractive man, for an old guy. He won't tell me exactly, but I peg him at about fifty with salt and pepper hair and attractive laugh lines. Not a big guy, but not small either. He kinda has a Michael Sheen thing going on. Pretty hot.

He laughs and sits a perfectly clear crystal glass in front of me and pours me two figures of whiskey.

This is why I like it here; Vlad just gets me.

"Oh lovey, you know I would adore ravishing every inch of you, but you are flirting with a happily married man." He smirks at me, his pearly whites beaming proud.

He and his wife Anna own this place, her being the Saint part of the duo.

"Where is that gorgeous woman you are lucky to call wife?" I ask and take a small sip of the burning liquid.

It immediate falsely warms my system. People think alcohol really does warm you, but nope. Quite the opposite actually.

But it gives off a hell of a ruse.

"She's home with the grandkids tonight." He smiles warmly.

Oh.

Even the mention of kids makes me feel uneasy. Give me a bomb and a room filled with bad people any day.

Vlad walks away, with a quick, 'I'll be back', in an atrocious Arnold impression, to serve another patron, a big guy. His head is turned slightly so I can't quite make out his face, But if the hot, muscular body and long brown hair tied up is anything to go by, I would say he is just my type.

Ok, calm down Rose. Not tonight. I know I'm sure ass hell not the best company at the moment.

Not with my next dilemma to handle.

But ... I did just get off a job ... that calls for a celebration right?

I mean all thing considered ... it was a success, I guess.

My girls dumped the bodies in an alley near a neighborhood to be found. Which, they were, and we checked into a hotel for the night.

The next morning my 'mother' gets a call, the police asking for me, and I was told the good news.

I was safe from my blood thirsty intruders.

Yippee.

We immediately hightailed it out of Pennsylvania and now I'm here, with nothing but my thoughts and a nightmare waiting for me.

I should have some fun...

I mean if Dean Winchester can get his rocks off, why can't I? I'm practically just like him...but without the supernatural aspect...and with a vagina, but I digress. Lissa is more like Sam.

Usually, I never have this argument with myself and I just find a guy and have fun.

I'm not a woman who buys into double standers. If a man can fuck, so can I. And I do. Call me what you want, I won't apologize for being in tune with my sexual nature. Human beings crave three things. Food, sleep and sex. There is nothing wrong with it.

So why am I trying to justify myself to myself?

Damn ... Because the job isn't done. I might or might not have the fifth boss and there is another sex ring somewhere.

Innocent girls are still suffering because we missed something.

No. Tonight is mine. I'll give them tomorrow and the next and so on.

I continue to sip my drink and loose myself in the music. Cake is playing now. I don't recognize the song, but that voice can't be miss placed.

Out of habit I check the exits and the surrounding people. Everything seems fine.

Although, you would be surprised how many women are falling into the webs of men with tan lines on their ring fingers.

Alcohol is dangerous.

Married men turn into walking, talking grenades of betrayal.

And ladies, for crying out loud, I'm all for getting your kicks, keeps the soul, soulful, but don't fuck another woman's man.

It's against girl code.

I turn back to my drink and catch my reflection in the mirror behind the bar.

The worst and best part of a bar.

Best, because I can always be aware. Worst...because I can always be aware.

Tired, Brown eyes stare back at me. I run a hand through my equally brown locks, long and silky smooth, with natural highlights.

It feels good to be myself again.

I, Rose Hathaway, am pretty damn great, all things considering.

I look away from myself to scan the room again, but instead intense brown eyes, a shade darker than mine, catch my gaze.

Now that is a man. Strong, masculine features, a full beard, neatly trimmed and an absolutely hulking body, make up probably the most handsome man I have ever seen.

Which is saying something, seeing as I usually don't like a lot of facial hair.

I bite my lip as a heady douse of warm arousal creeps through my body. Unlike the alcohol, I know this is anything but a fake out.

The sexy stranger eyes my lip, embedded with my teeth, and smirks deliciously, his eyes smoldering, screaming sex.

Holy hell.

I'm so screwed.

Hopefully.

Or else that shit is just false advertising.

Please please please please please please please REVIEW!¡!¡!¡


	5. Chapter 5

Shout out to all of my reviewers. This Is exactly what I needed. I crave the feedback, it is so important to me what you think of my story what you like what you don't, ect, so please please continue to review and I will continue to update quickly.

Rose POV

"You know, it's rude to stare." I call out to the sexy man, sitting only two stools down from me.

He smiles widely, not at all caught off guard by my outburst. If he didn't have the beard I'm sure his grin would look boyish.

"My apology ma'am, it's just not everyday I see a woman as beautiful as yourself." He replies in what I'm assuming is a Russian accent, scratching his bearded jaw slightly.

Damn that is a sexy accent.

"You've been waiting your whole life to use that line, haven't you?" I accuse, whiskey in hand I point a judgmental finger at him, then drink my last sip.

Fuck that's smooth.

"I'm wounded! Just thought I would pay the lady a compliment." He picks up his own glass, with what I'm assuming is vodka and downs the drink.

Lady? Umm...who wants to break the news to this guy?

I raise an eyebrow, any excuse to is always welcome, and eye him.

He smiles widely again, leans his forearms on the bar and raises a single eyebrow, as if to say, 'see I can do it, too'.

Son of a di...

Ah man, now he's raising the other brow by it's self...now he's doing the wave with them!

Fuck that looks cool.

I try and raise my left brow by it's self, but fail miserably, which makes us both laugh loudly, breaking the rest of the ice.

Rubbing at my perfectly sculpted brows I giggle out, "Alright! You win! Your facial muscles far exceed mine. Happy?"

He smirks cockily.

"Extremely. Can I buy you a drink?" He asks, looking me up and down as best he can with a lot of me hidden away.

A small smile plays on my lips.

"Yes, thank you."

He hails down Vlad and orders a whiskey and a vodka.

Knew it.

Vlad eyes gives me a, 'oh, does Rose have a crush' kinda look. I just narrow my eyes at him.

"I would be careful with this one mate; she bites." He winks at me and walks to the end of the bar.

"Jealous ex lover?" The handsome man asks.

"He wishes." I lean on the bar, my breasts resting on my arm as I trail my index finger over the rim of my drink, my blood red manicure still perfection.

His face turns from flirty to hungry, as I'm sure mine has as well.

"Dimitri."

"Rose."

"How long have you been in America, Dimitri?" I ask. His accent is quite thick, not at all Americanized, so my bet is not long at all.

"About a year, I'm originally from a small village in Russia called Baia." He answers.

I nod my head, and I'm listening, I really am, but...

"Are you wearing a duster?" I giggle.

No fucking joke this guy is wearing a brown duster. It doesn't look bad. The exact opposite actually but...it's unusual.

He shakes his head, smiling.

"Hey, it's cold outside!" He defends himself.

I raise my hands in surrender.

"Not judging!" I giggle. "But aren't you supposed to be used to the cold, being from Russia and all."

"I-...Wait, what do you think Russia is like?" He asks, looking at me accusingly.

"...I don't know...like an arctic waste land or something."

He just smiles and shakes his head. "Americans." He mutters.

"What do you do, Rose?" Dimitri, the Russian cowboy, asks.

"I work at an art gallery." I answer automatically. That's our cover.

"What about you?"

"I'm a mechanic." He answers. It seemed just as automatic as my answer.

Alright this has been fun, but the sexy Russian is sending tingles to my girlie bits and I need him naked ... like now.

"A man that works with his hands; I quite like that." I continue my ministrations on my glass and look up at him through my lashes.

He licks his lips, as we stare at each other.

"What else do you like, Rose? " He says, gripping his drink tightly. I kinda fear for the glass as his hulking hand consumes it. I can only imagine how good those hands could feel on my body.

"Oh, I don't think you could handle me. Probably not wise to lead you on." I purr.

He tilts his head as his heavy stare bores into mine. So much seduction coming off this man.

"And whys that?"

"Because, I do bite."

...I can't be sure...but I think he just growled.

About five seconds of lustful glances, As if in perfect sync, we down our drinks, the burn making me shiver and stand up, both leaving money on the bar.

I walk over to him, ... Whoa he is fucking tall, like...intimidatingly so ... fuck it's hot. I mean ... Damn, I only come up to about his elbow.

He grabs my waist as we dodge gyrating bodies and head toward the exit.

"Cab? I only live a mile away?" He makes it into a question, his accent reaching deeper. It sends a thrill through my body.

"Perfect." I reply. We would be going to his place anyway.

Rule número uno: Don't let conquests know where you live. Makes shit messy. Plus you can't just sneak away in the morning.

We make it outside, the cold insufferable even through my leather jacket, and I immediately see a cab. Putting two fingers between my lips I hope for the best and give off a loud whistle to which the cab skids to a sudden stop.

Holy shit, I can't believe that worked ... usually you only see that shit in movies.

This is a good sign for sure. It's got to be, right? Right?

I look up to Dimitri who is staring down at me wide eyed, his big, strong hand clutching me deliciously.

I play it off as nothing, when it's anything but! That shit was awesome!

I pull him over to the cab.

"Don't look so shocked, comrade. I'm a woman of many talents." I bite my lip, and slide into the back seat.

He joins a second later, calls out his address and attacks my lips with his.

He taste like alcohol and mint and smells like leather, oil and man.

I think I'm in love!

Ha! Just fucking with you. I'm in straight up get-the-fuck-inside-of-me-LUST.

It's glorious.

His hands travel up my sides, under my jacket and he wraps his huge arms around my back, bringing my body as close to his as possible. Oh god, this man is all muscle.

"Hey! No fucking in my cab!" The cabbie yells at us.

Mother fucker.

I break away from Dimitri's lips, reach into my shirt, between my cleavage, fish out a wad of bills and throw it to the front.

"Carry on."

Yeah, That's what I thought, asshole.

I immediately straddle the large man and attack his lips, moaning.

"So goddamn sexy." He growls, kneading my Jean covered ass.

I lightly bite his bottom lip.

"You haven't seen anything yet, big boy."

Let the fun begin.

I know you all are probably angry with me now but don't worry! All in good time. Please review and I will update the juicy chapter quickly.


	6. Chapter 6

Hello! This chapter is dedicated to LILA B thank you so much for the feed back. :)

And to answer a question from HARMONY COLLINS, I know some people won't really like the beard on Dimitri, but it's very important to me to make the characters mine, OOC, so that's why there will be changes, such as Sonya and Alberta being lesbians and weight lifters, Tati and Rose being very close instead of enemies and more surprises to come. Some will like it, some won't. I hope people will have an open mind. Also with the beard I hope it's not too distracting. if you don't like it you can just imagine him without one, if you wish. Furthermore in my mind Dimitri is Jason Momoa, and I just love him with a well groomed beard :) I LOVED Danila as Dimitri in the movies, actually I think he was the one good thing about the movies, but I've just always, since I first read the books, imagined Jason Momoa.

I own nothing. Please review.

Dimitri POV

I awaken with a start and a groan, raising my head off my warm pillow slightly, my mind feeling a little dazed, an annoying stream of light hitting my face through the blinds of my window. I scratch at the hot spot on my bearded cheek as if that will make it disappear. It kind of does.

Damn my head is pounding. Can I scratch that away too?

I scratch at my temple where the pain centers itself.

Nope.

My mind is definitely still asleep.

I let my head fall back to the comfort of my pillow, willing away my headache, and I'm immediately hit with a delicious perfume. Like tropical fruit and Candy.

What...

Oh shit.

Ignoring the pain in my head my body shoots forward into a sitting position, suddenly awake, and I look around my room for the sexy woman.

Rose.

She's not here. I'm alone, her and her clothes are gone. I turn to the tablestand by my bed, open the top drawer and reach in for my iPad. I unlock it and go to the app that is connected to my cameras around my condo. Nothing.

Well, at least it won't be awkward.

I look at the clock. Shit it's only seven a.m.

I lay back down, tossing the iPad to the foot of the bed and think back to the vixen I took home last night.

Long, dark brown hair curled perfectly. Eyes the color of Bourbon and lips you just want to lick and nibble.

Oh and lick and nibble, I did.

Among other things.

I smirk, running a hand through my wild hair and adjust myself under my blanket, thinking about her fucking tight, perfect body as she rode me hard, her perky tits bouncing, her lips open in a little O, sexy moans erupting from her every time my large member slid into her tight pussy.

Best lay I have ever had, without a doubt; And that's saying something.

Kinda makes me upset she's gone. Round two sounds extremely good, seeing as my dick has come to life in the morning light, with our new memories.

...Well more like round four.

I'm telling; Best. Ever.

The things this woman did ... Plain indecent.

Fucking perfect.

Rose Hathaway. Works at an art gallery.

She'll be easy to track.

I'm brought out of my musing by the shrill ring of my phone, somewhere discarded on the floor.

Groaning, I stretch out of bed and search through the pile of my forgotten clothing for my phone.

I find it in my pants pocket.

Ivan.

"What?" I grunt, as I unexpectedly step on something small and hard.

Picking up my foot, it looks like a button.

What the fuck?

I look around and see more white buttons, hiding in the black carpet.

"Now is that anyway to speak to your best friend?" Ivan grumbles out.

"What do you want fucker?"

I grab my button down shirt that I was wearing yesterday and inspect it.

Not a single surviving button. Although there is one towards the bottom hanging on by a thread.

Damn. I liked that shirt.

Another flash memory of Rose on her knees sucking me off as I pump myself into her hot mouth springs to my mind.

I look back to the shirt.

Worth it.

"Alright, alright, usually I would advise you to get laid, but we don't have the time, you need to get down here- we got a situation." He sighs.

"I've been gone two days, how the hell could you assholes have fucked something up in two days?" I groan. It's like I work with invalids.

I expel the newest flash back of Rose calling out my name as I bring her to a powerful orgasm with my tongue. I can almost still feel her hands pulling my hair. Damn she tasted good, too. That's rare.

"Just get down here boss, we need you. I'll explain everything when you get here." He replies, seemingly distracted.

"I'll be there in twenty." I hang up and head toward my bathroom to get ready.

I'll find Rose later.

Rose POV

"Oh God. Oh God. Yes. Yes. Yes." I chant as Dimitri the Russian sex god pounds into my dripping wet core from behind, his balls slapping against my clit, making me want to tear my hair out with pleasure.

It's kinda like when you see something really cute, like a puppy, and want to squeeze it to death, but this is just in a sexual way.

"That's it. Fucking scream." He grunts out and pulls my hair.

Yes that's what I want! All I can do is scream.

"Acantha, zone in on target." I'm brought out of my day dream and back to the present, by Lissa's sweet, professional voice.

"Target is in view, please correctly identify, Ghost." I say as calmly as I can, the wind snatching the sound of my voice away, as I squint into the scope of my M107 .50 Caliber long range Snipper riffle (LRSR), eyeing my perp.

"Copy that, Acantha. Proper ID in one minute." Lissa replies her tone all business.

"Oh fuck, Dimitri, harder! Make me come! Please!" I cry out as his hips swivel, rubbing my clit and G-spot with each forceful thrust, his self satisfied smirk forever implanted into my memory as he fucks me, missionary style now, but with my ankles around his ears.

I hear lissa clicking away at her computer through the ear piece, once again bringing me back to the now. She's making sure that with out a doubt this is the guy. The scope I'm using is also a camera which sends the feed to Lissa directly.

Used so I don't kill the wrong person. Also sometimes the people we are hired by, like to see for themselves the scum are dead.

But you have to be trusted without a doubt to be given that privilege.

Not many are given that privilege.

I focus in on my guy, pacing by his car inside a dark multi layer car park. The kind that swirls towards the sky and it's sides are completely unobstructed. Perfect.

Anthony Bricks.

Young. Rich. Fit. Handsome. Pedophile.

This man has been on the I'm-going-to-end-your-life itinerary for about two weeks now, but the bastard has been holed up in his home, never staying out in the open for too long and surround by meat head body guards 24/7.

Usually our naughty boys don't know what hits them before we, you know, hit 'em, but someone must have tipped this guy off that we were after him.

We were secretly hired by one of the mothers, who's son he raped while he was under a sedative. Whoever told him, is either a spy for him, or close to the mother.

Either way, whoever it is will regret it.

Sick, sick puppies.

Forty-five more seconds.

I'm About 1,200 meters away from my anxious target, on top of a Gucci, laying on my stomach, holding my rifle nice and steady on my target and waiting for the go ahead to end Bricks's life.

Now, I'm glad I finally have the chance to get this fucker, but damn if I didn't wish I was still in the Russians' bed. But I got a call about 5:30 telling me this was my chance.

I wanted more of the hunk of a man, but all well.

I originally went home with him with the expectation of it maybe being pleasurable but probably nothing to write home about.

Past experiences already clouding my hopes.

But, fuck, I would love nothing more than write a fucking novel of how this man hit, licked and fucked every damn spot just the right way.

Some spots, I didn't even know I fucking had.

Spots he found that made me very appreciative and I did something I don't do, for fear of catching something.

I gave him a blow job.

One of my worst fears is contracting something, so usually I just stick with sex, condoms a must at all times.

But I was looking at this man and his very ... Uhh ... Gifted package and I don't know what came over me, but I wanted him in my mouth.

Weird, I know, but I did.

All I could think about was pleasuring him in such a way that would make me feel powerful. Riding him wasn't enough.

Having him in my mouth, knowing that he is trusting me not to bite, but knowing I could, gave me a great deal of satisfaction and a great power trip.

Plus the way he sounded and looked when he came in my mouth and on my lips and chest was so erotic and made my whole body light up with ecstasy, my pussy completely engulfed with need.

I faintly hear a series of small beeps, interrupting me from thoughts. Shame, I was now getting to the part where he ate me out like I was his last meal, his thick beard scratching and tickling my thighs, sending me over the edge.

I think by that point that was my third orgasm.

"The perp is ID'ed as one Anthony Bricks. You are officially authorized to exterminate."

Finally.

I settle my gun against my shoulder slightly, make sure the tripod it's resting on is secure and squint into the scope once more.

He has stopped pacing and is talking, arguing seems more like it, with a taller man. Probably one of the guards he has supplied himself in an abundance.

To bad for you, you sick fuck, nothing is going to stop me now. Now that I have you clear in my view.

I was planning on shooting him through the side of his head, but as if God is looking down and smiling upon me, he turns so he is facing me and I'm able to use my favorite kill shot. Right between the eyes.

I fire, the silencer at the end of my gun muffling most of the noise, and watch as he falls to the ground as my bullet ends him for good.

His body guard hits the ground in a panic soon following Bricks.

"Did you also ID the bodyguard?" I ask Ghost.

"Yes," she relies, "Mike Anderson. Arrested for three accounts of battery, two domestic and two accounts of Attempted kidnap. He's an outlaw, on the run, busted out of Max in Cincinnati. Killed five guards to do it. "

He slowly, cautiously lifts his head slightly so he can to try and see where I am.

Fucking idiot.

Before he can even get his whole face in view I put a bullet between his eyes as well.

"What's one more asshole off our streets?" I ask myself allowed.

"Good call, Acantha. That guy was nothing good."

I watch as an elderly couple discovers the bodies.

I momentarily feel bad they had to see my aftermath.

"Alright, I know you probably had a long night, Acantha, but we need you at head quarters. Our operation isn't done. Not yet."

Back to the fifth boss, for me.

Almost.

"Give me an hour." I switch off my ear piece before she can complain.

There's something I need to do first, for my own piece of mind.

Please review!


	7. Chapter 7

Hello, is anyone there . . . I know, I suck. Sorry for the long ass wait, so here you go. This chapter is dedicated to IRESHA thank you for the feed back about my flashbacks, I believe I sent you a PM explaining my mistake and I'll try not to let it happen again. :) Also SKELKEL98 thank you so much for the support! I own nothing.

Dimitri POV

Sometimes being the boss is not what it's all cracked up to be. I can't tell you how many times a day I have to clean up someone else's mess. Big or small, once they fuck up in any manner it's as if my boys don't know their dicks from their foot, or how ever that American saying goes. So they come to me.

'Boss, we need your help, the mission didn't go as planned!'

'Boss, only you can make this right!'

'Boss, I'm an idiot and I should be riding a desk!'

Okay, the last one was mine.

After Ivan called I rushed to the office, dreading the supposed awful situation, only to find that the cops caught wind of just a small transaction. It's as if these morons have never fucking heard of a little magic trick called bury and pay. Bury the evidence and pay the precinct.

For Christ sakes, it's as if these fuckers have forgotten we are kings of the underground and not soccer dads, who got caught with the babysitter.

So now I clean up, both the 'issue' and my worthless staff.

"Dude, it is a big deal, their cops and they saw everything." My right hand man, Ivan, tries to convince me me as we stride across my auto repair shop, Belikov Automotive, passing by my worker bees, and toward the break room, where the pigs rest.

The only thing Ivan is beginning to convince me of, is that I need a new right hand man.

"Ivan, just shut the fuck up." I sigh. This is bullshit. Utter and complete bullshit that should have been handled hours ago, but apparently I only recruit incompetent rookies that should still be on their moms tit.

Knowing I probably look like a moody son of a bitch, I paint a welcoming smile on my face. Don't want to startle the nice police men.

"Gentleman." I greet the two young police officers here to interrogate me, shutting the door to the break room in Ivan's face, drowning out his protests and most of the rumble of garage equipment.

They stand at the same time, both on the short side, Coffee in hand and distrustful looks on their faces.

Well, fi-i-i-ne.

"Officers Luke and Taylor, NYPD-" Yadda, yadda, yadda.

I cut them off.

"Alright fellas, here is how this is going to go. I'm going show you a series of numbers and when I get to a number that makes you feel nice and warm on the inside, tell me to stop. Okay?" I clap my hands together in mock excitement.

They look to each other.

"Mr. Belikov . . . we are officers of the law." Luke says, his expression confused but intrigued.

I just smile widely. My middle name is intrigue.

It't actually Alexander, but I digress.

They look to each other again and silently communicate, every emotion showing on their faces, They probably haven't been on the job even a year, judging by the complete lack of facial restraint. They won't last without a poker face. Or cop face, I guess.

'Should we?' 'No! It would be wrong!' 'But imagine the money!' 'This is a bad idea.' 'I'm going to regret this.' 'We could lose our badges.' 'DUDE, THE MONEY!' '. . . Shit alright lets do it! Aim high!'

I'm only guessing, of course.

They turn to me with smirks, gently incline their heads, and settle back on the couch to talk numbers.

I grab a sheet of paper from my printer and a pen and begin writing a generous donation when my attention is redirected as someone enters.

I turn to see my mother, Olena, walk in, smiling brightly, fresh coffee in her hands. My mother is a short woman, dark brown hair and kind eyes. Well . . . when she choices to be kind.

She runs the books for the garage, and only the garage. I don't let her around any of my . . . other activities. But even then the guys don't understand why I would want my mother to run my money.

It's rare to actually see her in the shop. She usually works from home so she can babysit my nephew Paul and niece Zoya.

"I hope i'm not interrupting, I just thought you fine men would like a refill." She giggles out handing them their fresh cups of liquid gold.

None for her son, I see.

But I don't say anything. This isn't her, she's never been a giggler. What does she have planned?

"You're fine Olena, we were just about to discuss percentages." I don't call her mom and she understands why. Can't show the pigs too much. They might guess by the accents and resemblance, but the words won't be coming out of my mouth. There might be a day my mother will need to play ignorant, and I won't give the other side any ammunition.

She comes to stand beside me, her smile turning smug around the edges.

"Oh good, i'm not too late." She clasps her hands together and giggles again.

What?

I look up at the puzzle that is my mother, my confusion clear.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"Well," She sings, "While you and Ivan were talking, I did a bit of research on our guests here, and found some," She looks around shyly and mock whispers, "interesting things."

Luke and Taylor both look around uncomfortably, fear radiating off them in waves.

I drop my pen and slouch a little bit in my seat, smiling up at my goddess of a mother, who is probably going to save me a lot of money. And that's why she does the books.

"And what did you find?"

"Oh, just a few incidents our young officers were involved in before they joined the force."

She turns to the officers, her face hidden from me, but if their wide eyes and quivering lips are to go by, I think it's best I don't see what they are seeing.

I saw enough growing up.

"You aren't going to be a problem now are you, boys?" She ask sweetly. As if they have a choice.

They both shake their heads.

"Good," She cooed, "Now get out." She demanded, just as nicely.

They both take on spirits of track stars and book it.

"What was that?" I ask, running a hand though my long hair.

My mom turns to me and smiles her real smile. The smile of a mother looking at her son.

"You don't worry about that, Dimka," She scratches my beard, "we won't be hearing from them anytime soon. Now you go and have fun playing king and i'll fix you some lunch." She kisses my cheek and waltz's away.

I sit stunned.

Damn, that is scary ass woman and a wonderful mother.

I laugh and crumple the paper reading Two Mill. and free throw it to the trash can.

Miss. Damn.

Fuck it, no one saw, that went in.

I trash the paper and walk back to the garage to handle a certain idiot.

"How did it go?" Ivan asks, keeping match with my strides, even though I have about five inches on him.

"I'm considering giving my mother your job, seeing as she is the only one around her that has a brain." I growl.

Ivan and I have been through a lot of shit together, I love him like a brother, but sometimes I forget why I let him live.

"Look boss, I know we screwed up-"

"You do, do you?" I interrupt him.

He huffs.

"But we never had this problem before and it could have been really bad without you and-"

But I no longer hear his moaning.

How can I when I'm staring straight into eyes like liquid Bourbon.

PLEASE REVIEW.


	8. Chapter 8

Shout out to everyone who reviewed, this story doesn't get a lot but I appreciate each one. I decided to give you more than just a small taste of Rose's and Dimitri's night together, so enjoy. :) I own nothing. :(

DIMITRI POV

I sit down heavily behind my desk and bring out my best bottle of authentic Vodka.

Americanized Vodka is alright when in a stitch, but nothing beats the real stuff.

Pouring myself a generous amount in a tall crystal glass, I mentally slap myself.

I don't know what that woman has done to me-you know what? Fuck that! I do know what she's done to me! Glamoured me with her magic pussy! All morning I've tried to keep her out of my mind, barely managing with the pigs, but now I'm seeing her eyes!

Back in the shop, I thought I saw eye her eyes, but nope. Just some random mud brown eyes, belonging to some random chick.

I down the glass, the burn both clearing my thoughts and making them momentarily scattered.

Ehh, what's the difference, really?

Why her eyes? Why not her tits or her ass? Both delectable, both fondly implanted into my memory until a better pair come along.

Is that possible? I think back to last night with Roza.

* * *

I crash through the door of my bedroom, Rose's legs around my waist, my hands cupping her shapely ass, holding her to me tightly, her tongue playing with mine. She taste so good.

The best part are her tits crushed against my chest. This woman is not lacking for anything, let me tell ya. I wish her pussy could rub against my hard cock at this angle, but with the height difference it's just not possible.

I walk forward, nibbling on her lips, until my shins touch the edge of the bed.

I chuckle against her lips.

"What's so funny, comrade?" She breaths, her head tilted backwards slightly, begging for me to kiss her long, smooth neck. So I do.

Comrade? So American.

I trail my hands, squeezing slightly, from her ass cheeks and down her thighs until I reach the bends of her knees.

I chuckle again, still kissing her neck.

Realizing my plan, she pushes against my shoulders with her tiny hands, actually helping me than herself, really.

"Don't you da-" To late.

I throw her on the bed, the impacted making her bounce.

"Jackass!" She laughs.

I crawl in between her thighs, pressing only a tiny amount of my weight on her, and cover her laughter with my tongue.

She wraps her jean covered legs around me again, her high heels digging into my ass.

Once again, due to the extreme height difference, this position is not optimal for my dick to feel relief.

The same could not be said for the vixen under me.

As our tongues clash and devour, Rose begins to rub herself against my stomach, gasping at the sensation.

Growling, I move away from her lips and rip off her black T-shirt, neither of our jackets making it past the hallway.

As more of her skin should be revealed to me, I notice that the only light is coming from the moon, shinning through my bay windows.

That will not do.

Still on top of her, I drag her body further up the bed, so I can reach a lamp.

Light appears and I am staring at the smoothest skin alive to man.

"Fuck, you are so sexy." I growl out, sitting up slightly, rubbing my hands up and down the naked valley of her breasts, a black lace bra covering the goods.

My hands roughly rub her stomach and back up again, this time cupping her tits and rubbing my my hard cock against her center.

Fucking, finally.

Rose moans louder, urging me on. Her silky, brown hair like an ocean on my pillows. I quite like that.

"If you are having second thoughts, you better fucking speak up now, little girl." I order, rubbing against her harder.

"Don't stop, Dimitri!" She cries out as I go from merely rubbing to a forceful humping motion, as if we weren't still clothed and i'm already in her.

Before I could see what she was doing, Roza had a handful of my hair in her grasp, pulling my head backwards.

"Fuck me now, hard and fast, and you can have your hair back." She whispers, biting down on my earlobe, making me hiss.

It turns into another chuckle.

"Deal, baby. Kick off you heals."

I'm released as promised and unbutton her jeans, ripping away her panties along with them, when I hear her shoes, fall to the floor.

"Good girl."

I stand, kicking my shoes and socks off, then striping as quickly as possible.

Now naked as the day I was born, I stay standing, and watch Rose unhook her bra, throwing it away.

Her fucking amazing tits bounce and sway with the motion, her tiny pink nipples enticing me further.

Thank god. They're real. Nothing beats real tits.

My cock stands at attention, reaching my bellybutton.

Yeah, I'm not lacking either, both long and thick.

Rose bites her lip, her eyes widening in lust at my manhood.

That's what I talking about.

"Spread your legs." I order, stroking my painfully hard cock, slowly.

She does. I don't even need to tell her to spread them wider. She just does it. I truly love a woman comfortable in her skin and sexuality. No need to beg or comfort on my part.

Her pussy is now wide open for me to enjoy, my balls tightening at the sight of her.

Her pink pussy and mound are completely shaved, bare. It looks so soft.

Before I even realized, I catch myself speeding up on the ministrations on my dick and force myself to slow down.

Don't want tonight to end like that.

I planned on kissing up Rose's thighs, tasting all of her skin, but how can I go so slow when she starts playing with herself?

I attack, cradling the back of her thighs on my shoulders, gripping her hips and devouring her kitty.

I lick and suck every inch of her, tounge her opening the same as I had kissed her earlier, and bit her pink little pussy lips until she was pulling me hair, rubbing her pussy on my face and screaming my name.

God, she sounds so fucking hot.

"Fuck me, Dimitri! Fuck me!" She cried out, pushing on my chest.

I move up her body again touching all that I could.

Her eyes are shinning, her skin flushed and hot to the touch.

"Can I kiss you?" I ask. I can be gentlemanly.

A look I can't quite place flashes through her beautiful eyes.

Sitting up, she grabs my face, and licks me from chin to lips, finishing off with a deep kiss, tasting herself on me.

I growl against her lips.

"Fuck that was hot, Roza."

No woman, has ever done that, after I have gone down on her.

"Get a fucking condom. Now." She hisses.

I do as I'm told, finding one quickly in my drawer.

When securely on, I rub my cock up and down her pussy, entering her only slightly each motion downward.

It's the ultimate tease.

Roza cries out, body bowed, nails digging into my forearms, hips bucking fiercely, trying to shove me in her.

"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me . . ." She chants, moaning and crying, the sexual need so strong.

Too strong.

I begin to push my way in her tight, wet Nirvana.

She cries out long and loud, Spasmming around me.

"Fuck, girl, are you coming already?" I ground out, trying not to make a fool of myself. She's just so fucking tight!

"Oh god, oh god, Dimitri! I'm coming! Please, please don't stop." Her whole body shakes with pleasure as I pull out and push in again, over and over, orgasms hitting her from left and right.

Damn, do the right ground work with her and wham! Never ending orgasms. At least I think so with the way her little kitty grips me and her noises.

I pick up speed and force, needing to, or I 'll never be able to push my way back in her, she's just too tight.

"Fuck, baby, you are so fucking tight. I'm going to fuck this sweet pussy all night long." I growl, making her scream louder.

I might regret this . . . but I might not. And that last might is worth the risk because I have always wanted to say this.

"You like this don't you, you're a little slut aren't you with the way your screaming my name." I grunt along with my thrusts.

Please be cool with it. Please be cool with it. Please be co-

Her pussy tightens around me once more and she screams out yes, over and over.

Fuck yes! Ugh so goddamn hot. It's all in good, sexy fun, but I didn't expect her to go for it if i'm being completely honest.

Goddamn, she feels so fucking good. I can't fit all of myself in her, even with a few inches to spare, I'm already hitting her cervix.

Pleasure shoots through my body, making me grunt out with each thrust that she's my little whore, and Roza to scream.

The pleasure beings to centers at the base of my balls.

"Fuck Roza, I'm going to come," I warn.

My thrusts become sloppy, my cock so content in it's own personal glove. Fuck, it's too good to stop! Maybe I can hold off . . .

I came hard and long with a roar and few last sharp thrusts, milking myself with her body, filling up the condom a lot more than the little tip allowed. I could feel my seed swirling around the thick shaft of my cock.

I lost count how many times she finished, so I don't hate myself too much for not lasting at least 30 minutes.

Once the after shocks died down for the both of us, I roll over slightly, so I don't crush her, falling into a mini coma, as Rose's cries softly dissipate.

I am the fucking man.

* * *

I came so suddenly and so strongly that I coudn't recall what was my stamina's demise. I can usually tell, being it's usually the sight of bouncing tits.

But it came back to me now as I remember the first of three rounds of the best sex of my life.

The whole time her eyes were closed, her pleasure too intense, too consuming.

It was only when I warned her I was going to finish, did she open them, staring at me with Bourbon eyes, begging me to come with her.

I take a large gulp of Vodka, this time straight from the bottle.

Well shi-i-it . . .

PLEASE REVIEW


	9. Chapter 9

This chapter is dedicated to ROZA M BELICOVA! Thank you so so so so so much for all the feed back, you rock!

IMPORTANT

HEADS UP! I PURPOSELY MISSPELLED ONE WORD, IN REFRENCE TO A MOVIE. If anything else is misspelled, sorry. Leave me a review if you got the reference, it's got me weak!

ALSO REMEBEMER SOME OF MY CHARACTERS ARE VERY OOC, SO GIVE MY IMAGINATION A CHANCE. AKA Rose has some hang ups.

ROSE POV

"Hey! Peggy Bundy over there, why don't you give it a rest." Someone growls.

Wow, someone is actually named Peggy Bundy? I wonder if she was named before or after "Married With Children" aired.

Ha! What if her husbands' name is Al? I snort at my silent conversation biting my nails, my leg, crossed at the knee of the other, moving erratically.

"Hey, tits for brains, I'm talking to you!" The same voice shouts near my face this time.

My head snaps up as my personal space is invaded, a heavy Hispanic woman glaring at me, the waiting room empty beside us.

"Excuse me?" I call out angrily.

"Quit fucking kicking your leg, you've almost kicked me twice!" She hisses, her pudgy face red with anger.

Now, in her place, I probably would have reacted the same way, but since I'm not, I get angry as hell. I have too much shit on my mind for this.

I Lean in close to her, showing her she doesn't scare me.

"I don't know who you think you are," I ground out, every syllable laced with cold rage, "but if you don't get the fuck out of my face I will show you what makes me tick-tock-tick. Trust me, chick, unless I like you, or you amuse me, you don't want to know how deadly I can be to your health." By the end of my spiel my voice is but a whisper escaping my lips.

The girl obviously has a death wish because she begins to yell something back at me, but is interrupted by my name being called.

I angrily grab my leather jacket from the seat beside me and with a deathly glare I walk

away, screams following me.

"Yeah, that's right bitch, walk away!" The classless harpy calls after me.

I do walk away.

Lissa would be so proud.

Usually I hate how boring the Gynecologist waiting room is, wishing something exciting would happen.

Boring is alright with me for now on.

Plus it always gets interesting when the doc fiddles between your legs.

The nurse escorts me to the very back room, like usual, and hands me a disposable dressing gown.

I quickly change, carelessly throwing my clothes onto a chair and wait, biting my nails and swinging my legs.

They're my fucking legs for Christ's sake, I can do as I please.

"Rosemarie! How I have missed you!" Dr. Alto bellows as he enters my room, staring at a folder.

"Doctors in other degrees of medicine may be able to get away with saying that to their patients, but seeing as you poke and prod Southern Rose, it's just fucking weird." I gripe at him, fighting a smile.

He laughs, finally looking up from my chart. Dr. Stan Alto is a very handsome man, about forty, gray at the temples, lines around his eyes and mouth that you know are from laughing too much. He's very short for a man; my height exactly, actually. Which I uncharacteristically loved. He was the perfect height for missionary position; I didn't have to stare at his chest the whole time. Unlike the sex god . . . not that I could complain.

Anyways, Yup, I fucked my Gyno. No ragrets . . .

"Southern Rose? I've never heard that one before." He laughs.

"Yeah, Southern Rose, is a new development. Guys say 'little Stan'," I smirk at the good doc, "or 'Little bob'. But that doesn't work for Pussy." I inspect my nails, chipped in red. Well, what's left of them from my gnawing.

Stan laughs again.

"What brings you and Southern Rose here today?" He asks.

I look at him accusingly.

"It says in my chart, jackass."

"I know, but I would like to hear you say it." He laughs.

I roll my eyes.

"What do you want me to say?" I sigh.

"That you have cheated on me and now are suffering the consequences." He sits on his rolling stool and crosses his arms over his surprisingly broad chest, smiling brightly.

"Oh, please," I lean in, much like I did with that rude bitch in the waiting room, but this time all in good fun, "You could barely handle me in the bedroom, what makes you think you could handle being more than a lover?"

He laughs deep and long.

"Rose, I think you memory might be a little scewd," He licks his lips, "Remember our last time?"

I smile back at him.

There is a reason why this room was picked for me.

The last time I had an appointment it was just a regular check up, we had already slept together multiple times, mostly venturing to hotels.

"We were discussing the pros and cons of the death penalty, of all things." I laugh, biting my bottom lip.

He nods, biting his lip and staring at my chest.

I look downward slightly to see the tops of my breast are visible with the way i'm leaning.

Dirty Doctor.

"What happened next?" he edges, covertly placing the folder on his lap.

I consider myself a very liberal person, accept when it comes to guns and killing dirty bastards, so I was making my claim that the guilty deserve death, when I felt lips and teeth on the inside of thighs trailing dangerous close to Southern Rose.

All in all, Stan was one of the good ones in my past. One of few.

But no where near as good as someone in my very recent past.

"You took advantage of my vulnerable state." I tease, trying to sound coy.

He tilts his head, smiling.

"Just admit it Rose. We were good."

'Were', being the key word. We ended our affair about six months ago, when he found a woman he liked. They broke up shortly after, but we have an unspoken agreement, that the fun we had was finished, regardless. There are no hard feelings, honest, neither of us were in love with one another, but the facade had been aluminated. Our tryst stemmed from lust and convenience; unsaid, it was perfect; brought to the light, it made me feel cheap.

I had planned on finding a new Gyno, but honestly I don't want to restart laying down new ground work with a new doc.

Stan knows nothing about what I do, the enigma that is Rose Hathaway still intact, but he does know that if he gets me what I need immediately, the reward is handsome and tax free.

Yes, his major medical experience is Gynecology, but he has the resources and cover so he knows how to get any medical supplies I require. We have an upstanding date every second Tuesday of every month.

I decided if he's good enough to still be my business partner, than he's good enough to still inspect my woman bits.

Probably considered a weird philosophy to most, but . . . too fucking bad.

"Come one Ro-"

I cut him off.

"You weren't completely disappointing." I sigh dramatically.

Gotta throw the male ego a bone every once in awhile, when deserved.

Stan smiles brilliantly.

"Happy?"

"Like a cat chasing a laser pointer." He sighs, clasping his hands to his heart.

I giggle.

"Now," He reopens my file, in doctor mode, "You would like every STD test under the sun." He states.

"Yup." I bite my lip, feeling something close to embarrassment, but not quite. I probably don't have anything, but I have to know for sure.

"Have you been experiencing any symptoms? Abnormal fevers, Itching, burning, any sores or bumps near your mouth or genitals?"

"No." I answer honestly.

"How many sexual partners in the last year, or are you worried about one in particular Rose?" The concern was evident.

"I slept with a man last night and we used protection, but you know how much shit like this scares me, so I never let anyone go down on me or me on them with out proof they are clean." I rush out.

"I am aware." Yeah, he is.

"Well, we did both and now i'm here, so lets get on with this." I lay down and wait for him to unfold the stirrups from beside the table.

"Alright I will have to take swaps from your mouth and Southern Rose as well as a blood sample to test for any STD's, as well as a pap smear to check for HPV, but just in case, I can give you a prescription that prevents you from contracting HIV. It's good you came in when you did." He pats my hand.

"Wait, what?" I rise back to a sitting position. "HIV can be prevented?" I ask dumbfounded.

When did this happen?

"It's a new drug, doesn't even have an official name yet, but I swear to you, the success has been insane, it basically protects the body before it can be attacked, if you take the dosage 72 hours after coming in contact with the virus. The U.S. Food and Drug Administration are actually days away from announcing it, which will make it a little hard if they don't name it soon, the dingos." He smiles.

I laugh at his insult, a weight being lifted off my shoulders.

"And you wouldn't happen to have this magic medicine lying around here, would you?"

He smiles and produces a key from his white coat, that I know goes to a safe in his office.

Why did I stop fucking him, again?

He takes the tests, fiddling away at me, and gives me the prescription, how he has it on hand I will never know, Stanny boy is just good like that, and we confirm our date for next Tuesday.

After all is said and done, I feel the weight of the unknown lift dramatically from my shoulders and I actually smile and I actually let myself enjoy the smile. There won't be much to smile about until I deal with the scum that took my mama away from me, shutdown the last sex trading center and mourn my fallen sister, whomever she might be. I wouldn't allow Lissa to tell me who we lost. I needed a minute.

I smile to the receptionist, Debbie, as I conform my next check up.

"You know, I heard you and that woman and I just gotta say I was so happy when you shut her up, she always has something to say." Debbie giggles.

Debs is a cool costumer. She knows I don't make empty threats, seeing as I took care of her ex husband two years back. I didn't kill him, per Debbie's request, but I did make sure he couldn't raise another fist to anyone. Or any other body part, for that matter.

"Thanks." I smile at the motherly woman. We don't ever speak of it, but we are forever bound. I was her knight in shinning Armour and she my nearly-broken damsel. Playing either role leaves a mark on the psyche.

As I'm about to walk away, she looks around covertly and passes me a folded sheet of paper.

"You didn't get this from me." She brushes her hands together and winks.

I walk out and to the parking lot, toward my cherished '69 Mustang, and unfold the paper.

Written in neat print reads, 'RED '99 TOYOTA.'

Debbie you evil genius.

I look around the full car lot, for the the bitches car.

Someone, somewhere must be happy with me because the bitch is parked right by my baby.

I quickly inspect for cameras, finding three. She's parked by the driver side of my Stang, which is perfect because it creates a blind spot for all three cameras.

I walk over quickly, fumbling in my purse for my keys. Once by my car, I 'accidently' drop my keys, produce a cute little pocket knife from my purse and slash her front left tire, and making sure to stay in the blind spot, slash the other front tire and one in the back.

You never slash all four or else the insurance company will cover the cost, it being apparent vandalism.

Tick-tock-tick, this is what you get for being a dick. TeHe.

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